


Good Soldier

by Punish_Me_Frank_Castle



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Gen, Time Travel, after the snap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 21:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16900368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punish_Me_Frank_Castle/pseuds/Punish_Me_Frank_Castle
Summary: Bucky feels his body floating away. He calls out for Steve, reaches for his best friend but he’s too late. He’s fading away, finally at the end of that line.





	Good Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Part 0.5 of a ficlet I’m writing.

Bucky woke with a start. It came back to him in a rush, the burning sensation in his chest, his skin feeling like it was being sliced, feeling like he was falling. He called out for Steve, reached out to him, but it was too late. He attempted to sit up, rolling over to vomit before he made it upright. When his stomach had finished emptying itself he sat upright and took in his surroundings. 

He was in an alley by the looks of it, the street ahead was empty. He got up, patting himself, making sure he was whole. Nothing was broken, but when he brushed his left arm up against the dumpster he gasped, the dumpster was ice cold, which shouldn’t surprise him, it looked to be mid winter in New York, and cold temperatures were a given, but what threw him what that he had _felt_ it. His arm was no longer metal, flesh and bone had replaced the monstrosity that Hydra had left him with. 

He walked out of the alley dazedly, he had to find shelter, someplace to lay low, to figure things out. Catching his reflection in his peripheral he stopped dead. His countenance was flawed due to the chrome of the car that had caught his reflection. His hands ghosted up to brush his face. His hair was no longer long, the few scars he had accumulated throughout his years had smoothed over, his scruff was no longer present, his face was cleanly shaven. If he didn’t know better he would’ve sworn he looked younger. 

He shook his head in disbelief and continued walking towards Brooklyn—or where he estimated Brooklyn would be. He kept his head down as he walked not wanting to draw attention. He estimated it took him around three hours to get to Brooklyn. Once in the borough he found himself at a loss. Where should he go? He had come to terms as he walked that he was no longer in the world he left. This was 40s New York if he had ever seen it, he was no longer in the 21st century. He had determined the ‘where’ so that left him contemplating the ‘how’. Last he remembered he was in Wakanda with Steve, fighting Thanos and his army. Then pain and he was trying to get to Steve and then he…what? Passed out? Died? Was this Heaven? He had so many questions and his head was beginning to pound. He had yet to remember everything from his past and was beginning to feel the slight pain that always came before one of his episodes.

He let his feet guide him, tired of thinking. He was so tired, just wanted to lay down, to sleep. So when he found himself on his and Steve’s old doorstep he didn’t even hesitate before he opened the front door. He had expected the place to be abandoned, empty and cold and covered in a layer of dust. What he saw was something else entirely. There was logs burning in the fireplace, a pot of water boiling on the stove, and a small blonde headed figure sitting in the worn armchair with a sketchbook and pencil in hand. Bucky rubbed his eyes furiously, thinking he was hallucinating. 

“Steve?” he croaked as tears sprang to his eyes. 

“Heya Buck.” Steve looked up and smiled at his best friend. His smile quickly faded as he took in Bucky. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Bucky didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the tear slide down his cheeks. There in front of him was his best friend. Not the super soldier that he had become, but the small and scrappy boy from Brooklyn that Bucky had known and loved. 

“Yeah I’m okay Punk. I’m more than okay.” 

—

**_to be conituned…_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Want me to continue? Should this be Stucky? Bucky/OC? No romance and just Steve and Bucky living happily (or not so happily) ever after? Let me know!


End file.
